


The Capture of Anastasia Khol - Rogue Psi Cop

by pallasite



Series: Behind the Gloves (condensed) [5]
Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alien Artifacts, Art, Backstory, Bloodhounds (Babylon 5), Brasilia, Canon Compliant, Canon Illustration, Deathbed Scans, Digital Art, Digital Painting, Fanart, Fix-It, Gen, Illustrations, Lovecraftian, Psi Cops, Psi Corps, Rogue Telepaths, Shadows (Babylon 5) - Freeform, Worldbuilding, abandoned places, creepy setting, telepaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallasite/pseuds/pallasite
Summary: A Psi Cop disappears on Mars, and reappears a month later in the abandoned metro tunnels under Brasilia - and she's seemingly possessed by evil spirits. No one can catch her, so they call in Bester and his team.There's something very strange about this rogue in Brasilia...This is a canon story, but canondrops it, and only mentions these events after the fact. I've filled in the missing story, and included artwork!This work is a selection from theBehind the Glovesproject, with all the chapters of this work together in one place.
Series: Behind the Gloves (condensed) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687384
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Design by me. Thumbnails by [Hades' Pixels](https://www.deviantart.com/hadespixels). Sketches and final product by [ShiRoiXue](https://www.deviantart.com/shiroixue).

  


2223\. Geneva. A year after the Black Fox Raid. Shortly after Bester married Alisha Ross.

"Bester here."

The screen on his desk lit up with the image of an unfamiliar woman, although the black uniform she wore and the psi insignia on her chest were instantly recognizable. Her dark hair was pulled tightly behind her head, and her her eyes held concerning urgency.

"My name is Francisca da Silva," she began. "I'm the Psi Corps station chief here in Brasilia."

"A pleasure. How can I be of assistance?"

"Some odd things have been happening in my city over the last month. It was all over the news... though I don't suppose they cover such stories in Geneva. There've been reports of strange creatures living in the abandoned metro tunnels under the city, monsters that emerge at night to feast on unsuspecting citizens. Several mundanes were found mutilated, and the public's been in a panic. The police were suspecting gang violence, but the tabloids exploded with sensationalist stories of werewolves, Sasquatch, the Mapinguari... you name it."

"Mundanes will believe anything, if given the chance. All very interesting, but what's it have to do with me?"

"This is no ordinary case. Does this woman look familiar to you?"

A short clip from surveillance camera footage played on Bester's screen. It showed a young woman, perhaps twenty-five, in the tattered remains of what may have once been a MetaPol uniform, wandering aimlessly in front of a small grocery store, until a delivery truck pulled up. Two men got out of the truck and went about their work unloading the vehicle, apparently unable to see the young woman standing not even three meters off. Then Bester watched as the woman pulled a knife and began to attack. One man ran, screaming, while the woman pounced upon and savagely attacked the second. Once he lay unmoving on the the ground - in a puddle of blood - she casually took a crate of food from the back of the truck, and walked out of sight.

"The survivor reported he saw a monster - a giant dark beast with tentacles, countless eyes, you name it. Something straight out of Lovecraft. The police thought he was mad until they pulled the security camera footage. Then they called us."

"Telepathic illusion."

"Exactly. We have a rogue telepath on our hands, and a very strong one at that."

Bester looked closely at the screen. "Can you send me a close-up of her face?"

Da Silva nodded.

The station chief sent the file, and Bester examined it carefully. It didn't take him long to identify the woman. Ever since boyhood he had been known for following the rogue lists daily - he knew every rogue telepath, their background, and how long they'd been on the run. He followed the rogue lists almost religiously.

"Anastasia Khol," Bester said flatly. "P12. Psi Cop. She disappeared a month ago on Mars, from Syria Planum. One day she didn't report for duty. No history of mental problems, no known history of rogue sympathies. She was a good cop, Khol. Clean record. Then she vanished with no trace."

"I think we've found her."

"Good, glad I could be of assistance." Bester made to click off the call.

"No, that's not all. Wait."

"Yes?"

"I'd like you to take over the case."

Bester blinked. That was strange. "But surely your office is more than capable of-"

"No, we're not. My people are superstitious. We sent a team into the tunnels, and they came running back out, screaming. Monsters in the dark, they said. I've never seen them like this."

Inwardly, Bester shook his head. This was a disgrace. Psi Cops had be prepared to handle anything, especially telepathic illusions from powerful rogues. Their most important job was to protect the public from danger - such as the threat posed by Khol. Were they cowards? If so, they never should have been selected as Psi Cops, whatever their psi rating. Were they untrained in psi combat? That was unacceptable. Bester had trained for years, even before graduating and beginning his internship.

What did Da Silva's office do down there in Brasilia? he wondered darkly. Paperwork? Why couldn't they handle this rogue on their own? When this was over, he would have to report their incompetence to the assistant director.

"You're saying," he offered carefully, "that the presence of an outside team would give your people more confidence."

"No, I want you to take this case. My people will provide you with everything you need. And they'll guard the station exits in case she tries to escape."

"Ms. Da Silva, I'm a busy man..."

"And you're the best there is. You took down the Black Fox! Everyone knows about that. You're a legend here. The Corps is making a vid about the raid. And to think, you returned to full active duty, even after the injuries you sustained in the attack..."

Now she was trying to play on his ego. As she went on and on, finally he sighed.

"All right, I'll take the case. My team and I will meet you tomorrow. We'll find your rogue."

She beamed. "Thank you, Mr. Bester. I knew we could count on you! The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father."

The screen went black. Bester leaned back in his chair, and sighed again. It would be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

2223\. Brasilia.

_I'm telling you, I think she's possessed._

Gavriil Kichgelkhut ran the beam of his flashlight over the crumbling wet cement lining the abandoned train tunnel. He didn't admit it, but this place gave him the creeps. The crumbling subterranean remains of 21st century Brasilia were a world away from the steep, snow-covered mountains and wide open plains of his native Kamchatka.

Once they'd traveled deeply into the tunnels, the only light came from the team's flashlights. They moved through utter darkness, and every footfall, no matter how quiet, echoed ominously in the gloom. Soupy brown puddles lay at their feet, occasionally filled with bits of trash. An oppressive odor filled the air with the smell of decay. The tunnel walls were covered in graffiti - no doubt left there over the years by teenagers and adventurers trying to prove their mettle. Names, dates, artwork, images of skulls... Gavriil tried not to become distracted. It reminded him strangely of prehistoric cave art.

Humans always left their mark in the darkest, strangest places, just because they could.

A rat scurried across their path, pausing only a moment to look at the team, before squeaking and hurrying off into the gloom.

 _There's no such thing as spirit possession_ , thought George dryly. George was a good bloodhound, Gavriil knew - they were all the best - but he didn't have a spiritual bone in his body.

_Then how do you explain it?_

Gavriil could feel George shrug. He didn't care - he just wanted to capture the rogue and go home. _  
_

 _My grandfather was a Koryak shaman_ , Gavriil 'cast. _He showed me things. I'm telling you, she's possessed.  
_

_Did you grandfather tell you there are spirits on Mars? Because she disappeared on Mars.  
_

_Maybe there are. Maybe we brought them with us.  
_

George let out a small huff - a half-laugh in the stifling darkness of the tunnel.

Telepathically, they all strained to find the smallest hint of their quarry, but she was nowhere in "sight." Every time the tunnel branched, the team paused, made a choice, and moved on together. With a weaker rogue, they would have split up, but they were facing a Psi Cop, and couldn't take any chances. They would need every last man when they found her.

Twelve bloodhounds and one Psi Cop against one... _possessed_ Psi Cop. Gavriil didn't like it, even with those odds. Possession supposedly could give people otherworldly abilities, and whatever spirits had taken hold of Khol were both powerful and malicious.

After an hour of walking, they came to another branch in the tunnel, this time three-way. According to their map, two of the three the branches opened to a whole new "line" on the metro, and ran for many miles. It was decision time again.

_South?_

_No, we should keep going east. We can backtrack later, if she's not there.  
_

They were still debating their options when an ear-piercing scream echoed through the tunnels all around them, seemingly emanating from all directions at once. The team spun into formation - backs toward each other, weapons pointed outward. Around them, forms took shape in the gloom, and thousands of black snakes rose out of the mud and coiled and hissed, blocking off all three paths of escape.

 _They're not real!_ Gavriil 'cast. Frank discharged his weapon into one of the tunnels, sending a bright green PPG blast into the mass of snakes, but having no effect. _Hold your fire, they're not real!_

Gavriil saw something move in his peripheral vision. He spun. _There! She's there!_

He charged - right through the "snakes" - and the others followed him down the east tunnel.

It wasn't exactly protocol - usually Psi Cops gave the orders, and bloodhounds provided firepower - but this was no ordinary rogue, and Gavriil wasn't about to let her slip away. He was following in the footsteps of his ancestors, hunters on the plains of Siberia... or so he imagined, anyway. Maybe they'd been just fishermen, or herders of reindeer. Maybe they'd never hunted anything fiercer than a seal. But he was a hunter, he knew, in his blood - that was his calling. He was a bloodhound. He was a _wolf_. And he was on the hunt, with his pack.

For a moment, the beams of their flashlights landed on the darting figure of the rogue Psi Cop, but before the hounds could get a telepathic lock on her and bring her down, she was gone once again in the oppressive darkness. Peter slipped on the tracks and went face-down in the slime, slicing his cheek on a sharp rock, and he let out a telepathic curse.

The tunnels here, Gavril noticed, were in worse shape - in places, the ancient concrete walls had entirely caved in, blocking off old metro routes that lay behind.

The air in this part of the tunnels, Gavriil noticed, was even fouler than before. Gavriil fought down waves of nausea. Did she bring her victims down here into the tunnels?

They continued east, following the faint telepathic "scent" of their quarry, and ran for what felt like an hour. Finally they came to a cave-in. Debris nearly blocked off the path ahead.

_Turn around?  
_

_No_ , 'cast Gavriil. _She scrambled over that. She's on the other side._

_We can take another route.  
_

_No, we'll lose her for good.  
_

This time they followed protocol, and Mr. Bester made the decision. "We're going through," he said, aloud, and up they went, one by one, over the mountain of debris, sliding through the narrow gap between what remained of the tunnel roof and the debris below. Sharp rocks dug at Gavriil's ribs. He used his hands to push through, inching his way through the narrow passage into the inky blackness beyond. Until he got through and fired up his flashlight for the others, none of them would be able to physically see a thing.

Was she out there, waiting to attack them the moment they slipped through? He could barely feel her scent in the distance. He couldn't even tell if she was near or far.

He held his breath for one last push, and tumbled out the other side and down the mountain of debris, landing on his rear and jumping to his feet. He lit the flashlight and scanned the area - nothing. She'd run off again.

He worked from the other side to help widen the hole for the others, and when everyone was through, they continued their run. There was no graffiti on this side of the cave-in - perhaps, Gavrill thought, they were the first people to walk these tunnels in a hundred years. The thought gave him chills.

The hounds cornered Khol at the end of the line. She sat crouched in the corner, her dark hair spilling out in every direction, her clothes - the remains of a Metapol uniform - in tatters. Her psi insignia glinted in the light from the flashlights, but her eyes held nothing human anymore.

"It's over, Ms. Khol," said Mr. Bester, stepping forward out of the pack. "The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father. You're coming home."

She looked up and him and snarled, like a wild dog. "They're coming," she said in a raspy voice. "The spiders are coming, for all of us. It's too late."

She 'cast a telepathic illusion of spiders, everywhere - millions of them crawling up and down the abandoned station walls. Mr. Bester ignored the illusion entirely.

"Come home, Ms. Kohl."

"Never. They're coming. You will see."

 _Spiders?_ Gavriil wondered. Had she been possessed by some sort of Spider Spirit? In the gloom of the abandoned tunnel, he felt a chill run up his spine. There was something vaguely Lovecraftian about the whole affair, as well, as if the poor unwitting cop had stumbled upon the Necronomicon in the shifting red sands of Mars, and had been reduced to a gibbering monster who prophesied about the return of the Elder Gods.

He could feel George sighing, next to him, simultaneously amused and annoyed at Gavriil's superstitious, even sentimental fantasies.

"I don't want to use force, Ms. Khol," Bester was saying in a clear, loud voice that echoed off the tunnel walls with authority. "You are one of us, a telepath. You are Corps. I don't want to hurt you, but we will if you make us."

She snarled again, and sprang to her feet. "I said, NEVER!"

And with that she leapt straight at Gavriil, the intent to kill blazing in her eyes.

An instant later, they were locked in psi combat - she, a spider demon of a thousand eyes, and he, a black wolf. He sprung at her with all he had, tearing with his claws and gnashing with his teeth. Her mental form didn't have any recognizable head, or even a throat to lunge for, so he went for what he could - the thousands and thousands of writhing, staring, unblinking alien _eyeballs_. As they fought, the alien beast tried to envelop him in the swirling mass of tentacles that made up its "body." He fought with all his strength, snapping eye-stalks and severing sinews with every bite, but he was sinking down, down...

_...Can't breathe..._

And then it was over. Mr. Bester stood over his crouched form, a dark, sad, knowing look on his face. Their eyes met. Khol, or what was left of her, lay unconscious on the ruined train platform, barely breathing.

"Thank you..." Gavriil gasped.

Bester nodded. "It's over," he said flatly. "Let's get out of here."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a canon scene - I changed the point of view character to Gavriil.

2223\. Brasilia. A bar - the Common Flamingo.

Gavriil raised his glass and grinned widely.

"Here's to Mr. Bester, who took us to the lair, who smoked out the quarry, who made us well and truly hunters!"

"Hail!" shouted the chorus of other bloodhounds, and they clinked their glasses together.

The Psi Cop acknowledged the toast with a modest bow of his head. He raised his own glass. "To the Corps, our mother and our father!"

They all drank again, though Bester drank very little, as always. Gavriil was overjoyed that Bester had even joined them at the bar - while other Psi Cops often joined their bloodhounds in socializing, Bester rarely set foot in a bar unless he had some business reason to do so.

The change had to be due to his recent marriage, Gavriil figured. The Black Fox Raid had left Bester in bad shape, physically and emotionally, but then the Corps had found him a partner, and the marriage seemed to be very good for him. And now he was even at a bar - a mundane bar - celebrating a successful hunt!

Though the Psi Cop said little, Gavriil could feel that Bester was proud of him. Bester knew Gavriil's potential as a hunter, and wanted to help him reach it.

"To the Corps!" Gavriil shouted, ignoring - or perhaps to spite - the terrified looks coming from the remaining normal patrons of the bar.

Half of them had cleared out the moment the team had entered. Several of the remaining mundanes - a few tough-looking guys at the bar - had given the telepaths dangerous, belligerent looks, and seemed as if they might start trouble, but a solid glare from Bester had ended _that_. The mundanes had thinned out as the night wore on, and the bartender watched the telepaths with disgust - he knew no other patrons would enter the bar so long as the telepaths sat there, especially if they sang loud glory songs about the Corps. Gavriil knew their group would tip well (their whole outing would be covered by the Corps), but mundane patrons would still avoid the place like mice scurrying from cobras.

 _Screw them_ , thought Gavriil. He and the others had just saved their asses. They'd saved the city from a dangerous rogue telepath who'd been killing people on the streets. One might think a simple "thank you" would be in order, but no. Mundanes. They would come crying and begging to the Corps to save them, and then treat their rescuers like shit because they resented needing to be saved in the first place.

After he and the other bloodhounds had finished rehashing every moment of the hunt and the final battle with Khol, Gavriil sang a traditional Koryak hunting song, and then decided the team needed an epic ballad to memorialize their achievement. Now slightly tipsy, he made one up, and slowly the others - except Mr. Bester - joined in the fun. He would have written one about the Black Fox Raid, too, but he knew that Mr. Bester wouldn't have approved _. That_ would have been going too far.

Their singing got louder the more the mundanes left. The last of them were finally leaving when Bester's tel-phone beeped.

Gavriil hushed the others.

_"Mr. Bester? This is Dr. Juan Koabawa. The Blip is dying."_

"I see." _  
_

_"We've been cleared for a deathbed scan. I understand you have some experience with them."  
_

"Indeed I do."

_"Your record shows that you've already done six, so I'll understand if you don't want to do another. But the brain damage is extensive, and she's going fast. Ms. Calderon was unable to make good contact-"_

"Say no more, Doctor. I'll be there in five minutes." He closed the phone, stood, and took a bow. "Duty calls, gentlemen. Enjoy yourselves, but I want to see you all clearheaded by ten-hundred. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

When he left, the bloodhounds looked at each other.

"How many is that, now? Six?"

"No, that's number seven."

"Holy _shit_ , Jake. Is he trying to break a record?"

"He must be sucking up to command. Isn't he coming up for promotion soon? Senior detective?"

"If there's anything left of him to promote!"

"Gav, you said he was coming to his senses now that he's married. _That's_ coming to his senses? Seven necroscans? Is he suicidal?"

Gavriil looked over at the doorway, out which their brave leader had just passed moments before. _Doorways._ He shook his head, slowly, remembering the sad look Bester had given him earlier that night, when he'd saved Gavriil's life from Khol's vicious psi attack.

"I don't think so," he said, quietly.

"Then what is it?"

"He has a death wish. He doesn't want to kill himself, but he wants the universe to do it for him. He's daring the universe, Mike. And if he's not careful, one of these days, the universe is gonna bite."

"Death wish? Why? Is this Black Fox again? I've heard the rumors, but shit... what really happened to him up there on Mars, Gav?"

Gavriil looked into the eyes of his teammates. He thought about the inky, hot Amazonian night. He thought about Khol, dying on the operating table.

Death. Doorways.

He didn't know what had possessed her. He didn't know what had happened to Mr. Bester, either, and he didn't think he _wanted_ to know.

"Let's talk about something else, guys," he said, at last.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a canon scene - I cleaned up the writing.

There wasn't much left of Khol by the time Bester arrived. Another telepath had already tried to make contact, and failed. Bester didn't waste time talking to the medical staff - he took off his right glove and placed his fingers to the woman's temple. There was no time to lose.

Her mind, he saw instantly, had been shredded right through. Gavriil, in self-defense, had destroyed most of what remained of the woman who had once been Anastasia Khol. It was a shame, Bester knew - if she'd only surrendered peacefully, it never would have come to this. He'd never wanted to use force against one of his own, and neither had Gavriil, but the former Psi Cop had made the decision to attack instead.

She was very strong, Khol - stronger than Gavriil, who was no cop, only a bloodhound, a high P10. Whether Gavriil knew it or not, in that fateful moment, it had been her life or his. If Bester hadn't intervened, both Gavriil and Khol would be dead. In such situations, one had to make decisions.

What had caused her to go rogue, though? None of it made sense. This was no "typical" case: she was no Liz Montoya or Fatima Cristoban, running away for the illusory promise of a better life with the Underground. Khol was raised in the Corps. She had a clean record. Was Gavriil right, that she'd been possessed?

In her mindscape, Khol stood, quivering, at the liminality, a sort of storm front in which each of many lightning bolts was a dying memory, blazing out one last time. In the storm, a black eye was opening, waiting to swallow her forever.

 _Khol_ , he said softly. _Khol. I have to know why you went rogue. I have to know who led you to your death._

She turned toward him. Her face came and went like a bad transmission. It shifted from large-eyed child to the hollow, gaunt visage they had hunted. It distorted from abstract - like the face of a Grin - to photographic as she tried to hang on to herself. She wasn't succeeding.

_I was a good cop. I was._

_I know. You loved the Corps. What happened?_

_I was - I was good..._

A shrieking, then, a terrible inhuman sound that tore into him, that set his teeth on edge, that threatened to rip open his mind. For an instant he knew a terrible attraction in despair, in destruction, and yearned for oblivion so much that if he had had a PPG in his hand he might have turned it on himself.

Lightning struck, and he was on Mars, wide open in a wind-swept red plain. The sky was still a hurricane, the eye bigger than ever. It struck again, and Khol was fingering a small object, a black fragment-

-a fragment identical to one in Bester's own gloved hand, a fragment of something monstrous-

-which was now somehow huge, arachnoid, hideous, looming over him, screeching with a penetrating shrill not meant for human ears-

-and for a moment, Bester remembered something Director Vacit had said to him as a boy. He hadn't been more than six years old when the director had called him to his office in the middle of the night, but he remembered the old director's warning as clearly as if it were only yesterday-

_Watch for the Shadows. Watch, and beware..._

In the director's mind that night, when the director had mentioned "shadows," Bester had seen the image of a spider take shape, sink, and vanish into his memory. He hadn't ever recalled that moment again until now, standing in Khol's mindscape under the literal shadow of the hideous alien form.

Together, he and Khol screamed, for different reasons - and then she was shrieking away from him, into eternity, and he was following, grasping the trail of her dying mind, riding the current of her spent life toward - toward-

Something that called him. A woman's face. A man's voice. Answers...

 _No._ Answers he no longer wanted. He felt his ruined hand spasm with the effort of wrenching free, of abandoning Khol's desperate flight into nothing. She wanted to die, and he did, too, to know what was beyond, oblivion or solace.

The storm had him, he had gone in too far, and for a moment he was glad-

Then the eye dilated, rushed away, and she was gone. Too late, he redoubled his efforts to catch it, but it was like the old problem of taking half a step toward a door, and then half of that step, and half of that. He could get closer, but never reach it. She was gone, and he was withdrawing his bare, trembling fingers from her dead face. He was weeping.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bester," Dr. Koabawa said, softly. "I shouldn't have asked this of you."

"No," he managed. "I'll be all right in a moment. Just - give me a moment." It felt as if something had been cut out of him, something he couldn't even remember anymore. Was it true, what they said? That a part of your soul went with those who died? How much of him was left?

"Were you able to find out why she went rogue?" the doctor asked.

"No," he lied. "There wasn't enough of her left for me to get more than fragments."

Whatever otherworldly horror he had seen in Khol's mind would have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> (Her shadow is a bit of artistic license... since she’s become “possessed” from touching a Shadow artifact, and has “spiders in her mind,” this image combines what they see with their eyes and what they’re seeing telepathically, and shows her literal shadow in the shape of a Shadow ship.)


End file.
